


Hannimal Crossing

by WolfeyKitten



Category: Hannibal (TV), どうぶつの森 | Animal Crossing Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, For hannibal not animal crossing, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfeyKitten/pseuds/WolfeyKitten
Summary: After the Fall, Hannibal and Will are picked up by Redd's Treasure Trawler on its way to Bell Cove. An Animal Crossing/Hannibal crossover.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i feel no remorse

Will made his choice a long time ago. Even if he fought his instinct every step of the way, he knew that one day he would face Dr. Hannibal Lecter and have nothing else to say. Face to face, killer to killer. Will leered at Hannibal over the piece of driftwood they both clung to and wondered how much longer it would be before one of them ate the other. When the tension became too unbearably prickly even for Will Graham, he finally broke the silence they shared. 

“Lost at sea. One of the last places man can find moral justification in the act of consuming his fellow man.” His glare was icy, a sharp contrast to the heat they shouldered on their bare backs, their clothing scavenged to bandage their wounds. 

Hannibal looked inquisitive. “One might even garner sympathy in the wake of the ‘tragedy’ simply by virtue of having indulged.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Will snapped back. “Then again, it’s not like one more victim at the end of your laundry list would make much difference anyways.”

“Are you arranging dinner plans, Will?” Hannibal asked. 

“For me or for you?” He was losing track of who wanted to eat who, and which one of them found eroticism in being consumed. 

Will gritted his teeth before responding. “Whichever one of us is hungrier,” he punctuated the words with sharp enunciation. 

Hannibal’s expression did not change, but his gaze did shift away from Will. “It seems neither of us will be going hungry any time in the near future, but I’d be willing to reschedule, so long as you offer a 24-hour notice.” Will followed his line of sight and spotted the ship making its way over the horizon. 

It puttered toward them while Will sighed, “Every time we finally have some alone time to eat each other, someone else has to get between us.”

“I will concede that the dance is entertaining,” Hannibal said. 

Will rolled his eyes. “And we know too well what happens when you aren’t  _ entertained. _ ” 

“Please, Will, we will be playing guest to a new host. It would be rude if we were still quarreling over our appetites when we are taken aboard.” He nodded toward the ship that was quickly approaching. Will looked back at it over his shoulder. It seemed more like a trawler from this distance, a mediocre little thing. 

Will tried not to analyze the look on Hannibal’s face and opted to bury his chin in the crook of his elbow where it rested on the driftwood, his face sticky with sea spray. 

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” 

***

The man who pulled them aboard occupied the trawler alone. Stood on the deck with a towel around his aching shoulders, Will glanced over at Hannibal to get a read on what kind of ideas that inspired, but his expression was as politely inscrutable as ever. Their savior was tall and skinny, with bright orange hair and freckles that painted his face and uncovered torso. He introduced himself as Redd. Will found it a fitting name. 

“What brings you so far from the shore, cousins?” Redd asked while he wound some rope into a neat bundle, only to throw the bundle onto the deck in a haphazard pile. It made Will grimace. 

Hannibal looked over at Will, presumably amused to watch him try to answer. Will obliged. “We… fell. Off a cliff.” 

Redd tsked at them. “Been there, hate that for you. Though for me it was less a matter of ‘falling’ and more a matter of ‘being chased off.” Redd followed the statement with a cackle. Will looked at Hannibal for help. 

The man looked surprisingly dignified for someone who was just fished out of the ocean. “Yes, perhaps we all have a history of exile. You are not the only one on the lamb from your past.” 

Redd laughed again. “Don’t I know it, cousin. I won’t ask about yours if you don’t ask about mine.” 

“A fair enough bargain,” said Hannibal. 

He looked like he was going to say more before Will interrupted. “Where’s this ship heading?” 

Redd ducked through the tarp that separated the deck from the interior, expecting them to follow. “A little island community called Bell Cove. I have some goods of... ambiguous origin to offload,” he smirked over his shoulder.

When Will entered the cabin, he saw what Redd meant by that. He came face to face with a shockingly faithful recreation of the Mona Lisa. When he looked at Hannibal to gauge his reaction, all his litmus test returned was amusement. 

“Is this your work, Mr. Redd?” The psychiatrist asked, peering at the painting in the dim light.

Redd shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. 

When Hannibal looked back at Will, he hated how well he knew that bemused sort of interest. Will shared a look of his own that read something along the lines of ‘we still need him to get us out of this mess, so don’t start.’ 

Will could almost hear Hannibal’s voice through his inaudible scoff, and it sounded something like ‘What kind of homicidal plebeian do you take me for, dear Will?’ 

Will watched as Redd took the helm of the boat and consulted a map that looked suspiciously hand-drawn. 

Will couldn’t help but notice how fox-like the man was. It wasn’t exactly a healthy characteristic to exhibit. As soon as Redd assures them that they should make themselves at home, Will and Hannibal stepped back out on deck. 

“What do you see, Will?” Hannibal laid his hands on the low wall that separated the deck from the ocean, his face turned wistfully toward some unseen dream. 

Will leaned forward, placing more weight on the railing. “Nothing he hasn’t told us outright. He’s tricky, but not dangerous. I think smuggling is the worst of his crimes, the occasional misleading business deal thrown in for flavor.” 

Hannibal hummed, barely audible against the music of the ocean. “Something in your tone betrays that you aren’t quite sure of your assessment.” 

Will bit the inside of his cheek. “There’s something beneath the surface. He was too eager to control how we perceived him.”

“You think it is manipulation,” Hannibal asserted. 

“I think he’s hiding something through over-sharing in hopes we won’t notice,” Will corrected. 

“Are you concerned?” 

Will pushed away from the railing as Hannibal turned to look at him. “Depends on what he’s hiding.” 

Hannibal’s amusement was uncomfortable. He knew how fickle the man could be, and he knew exactly what he would do to maintain that blissful amusement. Will stepped back into the cabin to get a closer look at that artwork— some of it was strangely uncanny. 

It was like a dark gallery, still and quiet compared to the tumbling ocean outside. Will wondered between the handful of paintings, some of them he recognized as reproductions of more famous paintings, some he had never seen before. Some baffled him further, like the pearl earring painting— were her eyes closed when he passed through the cabin a few moments ago? He knew it wasn’t true to the original. He imagined how these uncanny paintings must stir Hannibal… he wondered if there was a Botticelli reproduction somewhere within the walls of the ship. 

He expected Redd to be on the bridge, but when he looked up the steps into the wheelhouse, no one was there. He had a few questions for the red-headed smuggler. There was a stepladder that led to the hull. Will stepped carefully across the old wooden floor as it creaked and peered into the darkness before deciding to step into it. 

“Redd?” He asked as he stepped into the hull. There were canvases leaning faced against the wall and paint strewn across an unprotected floor. A weak light illuminated a canvas at the center of the workspace, answering a few of Will’s questions. 

“Yeah? Come on down,” he heard from within. That mischievous tone in Redd’s voice had always put him on guard, but suddenly he felt very acutely aware of the potential for danger. If Redd had any desire, he could get away with anything out here. Maybe he wanted their skins for canvas. Maybe he wanted their hearts for pigment or their hairs for brushes or perhaps merely their marrow to sate his fox-like appetite. 

Will’s movements were rigid and guarded. He was used to fearing the worst. Redd emerged from the maze of canvases and tarps and Will analyzed the stratagems of a fight under such close quarters. “You know, you and your friend have such unique features. Maybe modelling for a sculpture would help pass the time.” Redd dusted something off of his hands. 

The tenseness melted from his shoulders. Maybe Will was a little damaged by his past experiences. “On a ship at sea?” 

“I have a steady hand,” Redd rebutted. He walked around Will, and Will made the observation that he was being cut off from the exit. He felt something brush his leg as Redd circled him, but when he looked down, he saw nothing. 

“I have a less than steady posture,” Will admitted. 

“We can fix that, easy peasy.” As Redd spoke, Will tracked him with his body, but suddenly he lost that kind of agency. His body felt stiff, and he couldn’t move anything but his eyes. Some kind of paralyzing agent? When had Redd slipped it to him? 

Redd looked smugly upon him. “See? Sturdy as a statue.” 

Will tried to speak, tried to call out to Hannibal, but he couldn’t seem to open his mouth. All he could hear from his person were strangled breaths of protest. His eyes frantically scanned the room to search for anything that could give him some kind of upper hand, and as he did, he caught a dim reflection in the porthole behind Redd. He could barely make it out, but he could see an ill-defined tail swishing behind Redd’s figure, the same hue as his bright orange hair. 

Will looked back at Redd, but he couldn’t see anything on his person that gave anything away. It must be his imagination… he thought back to the antlers that grew from Hannibal’s head when he invaded his nightmares. 

“What do ya think, Will?” All Redd needed to do to move him was articulate his joints. He shaped his arm so that it gripped an invisible sling over his shoulder, his face being directed toward the light. “Michelangelo’s  _ David? _ ” He then took the knees out of Will and forced him to a sitting position. He forced Will’s hand to curl under his chin in thought. “Or what about  _ The Thinker?  _ You seem like the kinda guy who always gets lost in his own head.” Redd grinned mischievously. 

Will wasn’t scared yet. If Redd were to get out the saw and start slicing his head in two, maybe then he’d be scared, but this was pedestrian for him at this point. He rolled his eyes.

Redd cackled an annoying, high-pitched laugh. “Unamused, are we? Maybe I have the wrong Rodin piece. Maybe you’re more a fan of  _ The Kiss.”  _ Redd continued to circle him. This time when he passed around, Will felt fur beneath his chin as a big, bushy tail swept up to punctuate the name of the sculpture. 

He posed Will’s hands to replicate the delicate curves of the woman from the sculpture, his face heating as Redd assigned him as the bottom. His arms were moved up to caress a figure that wasn’t there. The piece was fundamentally incomplete without the second figure. 

A familiar voice spoke outside of Will’s line of sight. “It takes on a different tone when she’s all alone, reaching for nothing, leaning into no man’s kiss.” Will could hear the steps of Hannibal approaching them. Redd paused to look up as Hannibal spoke. “The figure is desperate, yearning for something to fill the space. Almost poetic, I think.” 

Redd furrowed his brow, and Will thought he looked a little scared. The tail vanished as Will tried to look for it again… he still wasn’t sure of its existence, his brain still addled with dehydration and heat exhaustion. Redd stood and looked between Will and Hannibal, who Will still couldn’t see. “You two are a little more interesting than I thought you’d be.” 

“Please, don’t let me stop you. I appreciate the artistic process as much as anyone. I’m a bit of an artist myself,” Hannibal said. Will remembered the picture Rinaldo Pazzi showed him. 

Will relished in the look of regret on Redd’s face. “No no no, I think I’d like to know how you would finish the piece.” 

“Ah, Redd. I cannot refuse such an invitation. Forgive me for overstepping, but I believe I have a different masterpiece in mind.” 

Just out of the corner of his eye, Will caught the look of fear in Redd’s eyes. He heard a sickening tear and could see a stake sink into Redd’s bare stomach, Hannibal’s hands at the helm. Redd stumbled backwards, his eyes terrorized. 

Redd tried out a few last syllables before saying, “Would you believe this is exactly how I thought I’d go out?” 

Will found himself able to move again, slowly at first, he turned his head toward Hannibal, who only watched politely. “Oh, Mr. Redd, I hardly believe you could have anticipated me.” 

Redd fell against one of the canvases that was propped against the wall of the hull. He painted over its existing vibrant strokes with his blood, his pale chest red with the blood that sputtered out of his mouth. 

The light faded out of him. The painting that he fell against was that of a vibrant fox, nine tails splayed majestically around it, painted in traditional Japanese style. A kitsune, Will recognized. It must have been subconsciously feeding him the fox-like imagery. 

He was finally able to stand again. He looked between Redd and Hannibal. Something had paralyzed him, something had taken away the agency that he fought so desperately to maintain. With Hannibal, bodily autonomy was a luxury. He hated Redd for being another to take that away. Maybe Hannibal hated it too. He killed Redd because only he was able to take that away from Will. Will’s autonomy in the hands of another might as well have been a scarlet letter upon Will’s chest. 

Hannibal didn’t take his eyes off of Redd, the painting framing him just so that the tails encircled him like a halo. Will knew better than to ask any questions, lest some other facet of his worldview be shattered. He knew there was something wildly unnatural about Redd. He knew enough to know that he didn’t want to find out what it was. There were some questions better left to Hannibal’s design. 

“Well?” Will asked. 

“Well I suppose we are heading for Bell Cove,” said Hannibal. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was Will who pushed Redd’s body from the edge of the ship. He heaved the body onto the railing and let it fall into the water below. He was cold as he did it, unfeeling as he watched the darkness of the warm water accept Redd into its fold. Redd’s fox-like face disappeared beneath the rocking waves, and Will didn’t feel anything at all as it went. 

They landed at Bell Cove that evening. Following Redd’s map led to a secret beach in a seemingly secluded section of the island. Will looked at Hannibal, the de facto decision-maker after Will decided he was going to check out mentally for this one. “What do you think?” 

Hannibal hummed. “Some of the art on this ship is exquisite. It will be a shame to leave it.”

“But?” 

“But I believe it is the best course of action to absolve ourselves of our involvement with Redd.” They disembarked from the ship and allowed it to drift into the soft evening sea, the sunset framing its journey to the horizon. 

Once it was gone, the sun had set. All they needed to do was wash up on the beach. 

Will stayed quiet next to Hannibal. It was strange to see him so disheveled, but even as his clothes were ripped and his body sticky with sea grime, he still maintained that dignified air. After all this time, Will still couldn’t decide if it was comforting or not. He thought that right now, with his own mind struggling to keep up to speed with everything happening, Hannibal’s rigid detachment was very welcome. 

He looked toward the town that settled the island. He could just see the glow of civilization through the trees. He knew he couldn’t ask Hannibal to keep peace between them and the islanders, so he wondered how long they had before they were the recipients of Hannibal’s hunger. He sat on the beach and tucked his legs into his chest while the trawler faded away. He rested his chin on his arms and watched the stars come out as if everything was normal. 

After a long silence, Hannibal finally spoke. “Are you ready to go, Will?” 

“I guess you’ll want to make a show of it?” Will grumbled. 

“The curtain rises even on an actor's worst day,” he recited. Hannibal extended a hand to help Will stand. 

“They’d be more likely to make a space for us if we seem vulnerable,” Will added. 

Hannibal led them away from the secret beach and into the Bell Cove beach proper. “Precisely. Your instincts are sharpening.” 

“My instincts weren’t dull until you took a grinding stone to them,” Will said.

“I like to think I took a grinding stone to many of your edges, Will.” 

“Forgive me if I was too  _ pointy  _ for your liking, Dr. Lecter.” Will’s tone was as contemptuousas it always was, but in an awfully strange bastardization of Stockholm Syndrome, he didn’t feel any of the vivid distaste he once did.

“You are forgiven, Will.” 

Will chose not to reply. The statement felt heavy in a way that suggested that Will had been forgiven for more than just his metaphorical abrasion. Silence fell between them as they made their way to the main beach. 

Will sat back down in the sand and Hannibal followed suit. The certainly had the look of men washing up on a distant shore, that was for sure. There was no theater about this, only an exaggeration of the truth. 

Exhausted, Will laid back in the sand, cringing at the way the grains would stick to his skin. The discomfort only lasted a moment, however. It seemed like it was before he even closed his eyes that he was being awoken by the sound of a woman’s voice. 

His eyes cracked open to meet the morning sun. A woman, blonde, young, and curious peered over him, blocking the sun so that he didn’t have to. He groggily pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his face with a sandy hand before realizing its futility. 

The woman clasped her hands together. “Oh good, you’re awake. I was getting a little worried there for a second!” She tapped her feet and swayed. 

Will looked around before meeting her gaze. “Where’s--” He wanted to ask about Hannibal, but thought better of it, lest he ruin some sort of plan. “Where am I?” He asked instead. 

“This is Bell Cove. I’m Isabelle,” she chirped. Will felt a softness in his heart. He tried not to get too attached. “It looks like you and your friend got into quite the shipwreck. No worries, you’re safe now.” She smiled and offered a hand. “Can you stand?” 

Will nodded and let her help him stand. “Where is he, my friend?” 

“He’s speaking to the property manager here. He’s safe as well. Mr. Nook asked me to come get you some clean clothes and warm food.” 

There was something about Isabelle that suggested comfort. He found himself trusting easily in her words; in fact, she reminded him an awful lot of Molly. He chose not to think about it. “Right. Thank you.” 

Isabelle, on the other hand, was far more trusting than she should have been. Maybe she was just a naturally kind person, or maybe their vulnerability ploy worked. Either way, she let him use her shower. 

She gave him a “Nook Inc.” branded set of clothes to wear. They contented him. He spent the rest of the morning in an unfriendly haze, but Isabelle seemed cordial enough for the both of them. While Will was eating, she rattled on about Bell Cove. Will paid little attention until Isabelle finally brought him to resident services. 

Hannibal was speaking to a calm-looking, heavy-set man. His skin was coated in a dark tan, and even darker freckles coated the space across his nose. He and Hannibal and both stood to greet them. Isabelle introduced him as Tom Nook.

“It’s a pleasure,” Will said. 

Will looked Hannibal over. He was just as pristine and well-manacured as he always was, suit and all, save for the few bandages that covered his visible wounds. He figured the residents of this island would all be the Hawaiian shirt wearing type, so he was surprised that they had found Hannibal a suit. 

“Mr. Tom Nook and I have just been discussing the particulars of our stay.” Hannibal said to Will. 

“We’re staying?” Will looked at Isabelle and tried not to betray his grief. 

“Of course. We are in the market for a new home, are we not? Mr. Nook is quite generous with his housing services. He will let us stay for as long as we like with almost no catch.” 

Nook tapped his fingers together. “Yes, yes! Fortunately we have one more home available for purchase. I will happily loan you the capital.” 

Will’s eyes shifted around the room. He couldn’t help but speculate on the true nature of this settlement. “Of course, sounds like paradise.” 

Nook spoke again. “I’ll let you get settled into your new home. Tonight we can celebrate your safety and the arrival of new neighbors, yes!” 

Isabelle clapped her hands together excitedly. “Please let me show you to your home!” 

Will felt dizzy, but Hannibal cordially gestured for her to lead the way. He simply followed Hannibal’s lead. It wasn’t until Will settled into the modest couch did he begin to come out of his daze. Everything hurt. 

“You don’t look well, Will,” Hannibal said. 

“When have I ever,” he rebutted. 

“Are the new accommodations at least to your liking?” Hannibal asked, placing a glass of whisky onto the coffee table in front of Will. 

Will took the glass into his hands. “Modest, isn’t it?” 

Hannibal was seated at the dinning table, his legs crossed. “I mean the island as a whole. You understand what is happening here, correct?” 

Will chewed his whisky. “They have their own currency,” he observed. “And they don’t get real news, or you wouldn’t have used your real name.” 

Hannibal nodded. “The island is an autonomous zone, isolated from the rest of the world.” 

Will sat the glass down. “It’s a cult.” 

“You don’t seem perturbed by it.” 

Will looked up at Hannibal, his jaw clenching and his eyes rich with their recent misdeeds. “I feel sorry for them. They seem happy. Our presence will inevitably destroy what they have, we aren’t exactly pristine conduits for cult mentality.” 

“It may just be a commune. We can participate in a commune,” Hannibal said.

“For how long?” 

“I’d like to keep the peace here. There are few asylums for us, Will.” 

Will leaned back into his seat and decided not to contest Hannibal’s words. He knew they could only ring true for so long. He tried not to think. Not about Molly, Alana, or about Jack. He hoped they presumed Will dead. He hoped they could just move on from him in peace, because he couldn’t see himself pulling out of this one. He didn’t think he could ever return to what he had. 

He looked at Hannibal, who had abandoned Will to think. The man was reading over a book he had gotten from Nook, and Will felt something besides resentment, the same feeling that pulled him to Hannibal like a magnet from the day they met. 

Their new home was exactly the kind of home he liked, the same kind of modest home he lived in with his dogs and with Molly. This island was the exact kind of place he could see himself settling into forever. Why did that scare him so? Was it because Hannibal was finally the one he would be settling with? 

The celebration that night was warm and kind. He met his neighbors, and they were all colorful and friendly. They were kind enough to feed him, house him, and welcome him as one of their own. Maybe over time, these islanders could teach Will how to hold attachments once again. He was certain they wouldn’t get that chance. 

The next day goes by peacefully. So does the one after that. Isabelle brings them a plate of cookies one afternoon. Fauna invites them over for dinner, and Will listens as Hannibal promises to host his own dinner parties once they have established themselves properly. 

Most of the time, Will escaped to fish. The rivers that intersected near their home were picture perfect. Will thought it was too perfect, like the kind of paradise that could only exist in a dream. After the first few days, he really began to settle into that dream, even if he entertained the chance that it really was too good to be true. Maybe Hannibal sent him into some dream-like stasis with hypnosis therapy or something. If that was true, would he even want to escape anymore? Fishing became his full-time job. He could even pay off their “home loan” through his hobby. 

He became sure that it was real when a body washed up on the beach a few mornings after their arrival. A  _ frighteningly  _ familiar body.


End file.
